What's past is History
by gallifreygirl1194
Summary: Tony Stark finds the old 1940s reels of Steve Rogers... performing, if you will, on stage. And now he won't let Steve live it down. One-shot, Stony SLASH


Tony Stark strutted into one of the lesser known rooms of the Avengers mansion, looking for some old parts for a robotics idea he was working on, and stopped short.

Back in a sad, dark looking corner was a box of... holy crap, were those actual film reels? The kind that didn't exist anymore? Tony completely forgot about his robot-normal as of late-and grabbed the reel box, heading down to his lab to brush off the old equipment his dad had left him.

To Tony's surprise, the reels were in complete black and white. And looked like something from the 40's. The announcer just sort of sounded like that guy that spoke into the low-tech microphone to get his voice over all of the action in the real movies, and then the music started.

And Tony knew exactly who he was going to be giving crap later today.

The movie... if you could call it that.. started out with a song. And scantily clad (or, what was scantily clad by 1940's definition) dancing women.

"Who's strong and brave here to save the American way?" they sang.

Tony curled up on his couch, progressively getting more and more excited about what was really going to happen here. He happily watched as the old, in-his-own-time Steve Rogers walked down the stage and lectured about how buying war bonds would help "put a bullet in the barrel of your best guy's gun." About the time Steve socked a Hitler impersonator in the face, Tony was on the floor in hysterics. He was pretty sure he hadn't laughed this hard in years. Or that he could remember.

"The Star Spangled Man With A Plan." Tony considered it for a second... that was definitely a sexier pet name than "Capsicle." Not that Capsicle wasn't a good name... it's just that...

Tony turned his attention to the reels again. He was particularly enjoying the filming of Steve's performance in New York, because he had to give props: he couldn't tell if the motorcycle Cap was holding was really a motorcycle, or if it was a piece of cardboard.

Well, Tony thought, there were girls sitting on it... Nah. It was too much brain power. And right now, all he was looking for was blackmail opportunity.

Eventually, the films ended, and Tony realised that by now, everyone should be up... he failed to notice how not-normal of a time it was in the morning when he found the reels themselves.

As he sauntered upstairs toward the kitchen for a cup of coffee, he could first hear Thor's booming laugh. A good sign that Thor's "favourite drink" had already been brewed and was also waiting for Tony as a wake up call.

The best and most promising part about climbing the stairs was hearing Cap's firm but tentative voice responding to light morning conversation. And Cap was exactly the person Tony wanted to harass-erm, see.

"Hey, Cap." Tony smirked slyly and leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen. "How's it going, my Star Spangled Man With a Plan?"

Jumping at Tony's gibe, Steve sent a perfectly good mug of coffee skittering across the linoleum. He whirled around to find himself face to face with Tony.

"I-uh," Steve started slowly, "How do you know about that?" Horror crept in behind narrowed blue eyes.

This only encouraged Tony. His smirk broadened, and he opened his mouth to sing, a skill which would do better hidden in the secrets of Tony's mind.

"Who's strong and brave, here to save the American _wayyyyyyyy_?"

Steve looked at Tony with that of a kid being picked on in the schoolyard. An angry, super-soldier small child. Just add the cowl, and he was becoming more of the Captain America of the battlefield. Not that that stopped Tony Stark.

"Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and _dayyyyyyyy_?"

"Tony, I swear, if you don't stop-" Steve started, visibly getting more and more pissed with every garbled word out of Tony's mouth.

Tony simply shrugged. "Who will campaign door to door for America, carry the flag shore to shore for America, from Hoboken to Spokane? The _STAAAR SPANGLED MAAAAN, WITH A PLAAAAAAA-_"

The singing was cut off, violently,with a loud crack. Steve pulled his hand back from a hard punch to Tony's face, and Tony clutched a hand to his nose, as he now sung out in pain.

"I told you," Steve forced out through gritted teeth, "to stop. And you didn't. Serum doesn't particularly like that, and neither do I."

Tony looked up at him with eyes like a kicked puppy. "I was just habbing a little bit of fub," he muttered, obviously with a swollen nose now.

Steve only glared in response, before pushing past Tony and storming out of the kitchen.

"Crap..." Tony muttered under his breath, drawing his hand away to examine it. It was dripping with blood. Fantastic.

Stumbling out of the door behind Steve, he rushed to the small bathroom down the hallway, fighting to keep as much blood from dripping to the floor as possible. When he finally arrived he snatched up liberal amounts of toilet paper to attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood seeping down his face.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, seeing a flash of a swollen nose grotesquely dented and off center on one side. Looking back down, he switched the sink on and tried to one-handedly wash some of the smeared crimson from his face. He hissed sharply in pain as a finger accidentally brushed his nose in his pathetic attempt.

After several intense minutes, his nose was still bleeding quite profusely, and Tony was out of toilet paper. He cursed under his breath as his free hand came up empty after groping around for a substitute. This demanded more supplies, and fast.

Tony sprinted back into the kitchen, brown eyes searching wildly for anything he could use. As if God himself had put it there,a gloriously full roll of paper towels sat directly across the kitchen on a smooth countertop. Tony hurriedly moved for the towels, but with a sickening drop in his stomach, his foot slipped and Tony was in mid air, landing on the hard floor. Dazed, he lay face-up in a puddle of coffee, black. Just the way Steve drank it. And directly next to him-it was a miracle he hadn't landed on it-was a shattered red, white, and blue mug. Steve's mug.

The loud thud of Tony's body hitting the floor summoned a worried Steve running into the kitchen, freezing at the doorway, and assessing the situation. Within seconds, he was at Tony's side.

"Oh, oh," Steve murmured to himself, getting down on his knees directly in front of Tony, wielding the roll of paper towels. "Come here," he said, gently propping Tony's body up against the counter and out of the puddle of coffee.. "We'll clean this up in no time."

As Steve started to dab at Tony's face and nose with a wet paper towel, Tony stared at him. Then, without warning, Tony hungrily grabbed Steve's face and brought it closer to his, sealing the action with a long kiss.

When the two paused for breath, Tony looked into Steve's deep blue eyes and whispered, "you forgive me, right? You'll always forgive me, my Star-Spangled man?"

Steve simply grinned, and kissed his forehead lightly. "Always."

* * *

**HAI THERE GUISE**

**I decided to write this**

**because this scene has been in my head for a while. I hope you guys really enjoy it, and leave lots of reviews here, just like you always should!**

**I will get back to working on Powerlines now, for those people who follow me because of that glorious bit of a fic. **

**Thanks so much for reading guys!**

** Review, review review!**


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